Up, Up and Away
by GlitterVeins
Summary: After the war, Hermione flees the wizarding world for the summer. Come September, she thinks she's ready to return to Hogwarts, but is surprised to find that her old arch-enemy has returned. Not only that, but they've been appointed Head Boy and Girl! It's not the most original premise, but there will be grammar! And spelling! And punctuation galore!
1. Back to Hogwarts

_I don't own anything. Let me know if you enjoy it._

Hermione Granger awoke with a start, then relaxed. The feel of soft cotton beneath her told her what she needed to be reminded each morning: she was home, not in a tent or hiding on the English countryside or being tortured or fighting for her life. Then, suddenly, she tensed again. Her eyes flew open as she sat up and grabbed her calendar. She was right—September 1st. She was going back to Hogwarts.

It took the girl all of thirty minutes to shower, dress, call a car, and arrive at the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. She had spent the summer with absolutely zero contact with the wizard world, and while it had been exactly what she had needed in order to heal after the battle, she was anxious to get back to life as she remembered it. As she crossed the platform at King's Cross, he shivered in anticipation of the Sorting Ceremony and the Feast—all of which, she realized, she could enjoy without fear of Voldemort hanging over her head for only the second time in her life.

"Hey," came a voice over her shoulder, and she jumped about a mile, drawing her wand. Seeing a grinning Ginny, she relaxed immediately and threw her arms around the girl's neck. She released the redhead and ran to the two boys behind her, launching herself at them each in turn. "Ginny! Ron! _Harry_!"

"I am _so_ sorry for not being in touch, but I absolutely _had_ to go find my parents in Australia, and then when I told them what all had happened, they sent me to a therapist _immediately_, and he _insisted_ that I stay in the Muggle world at least for the summer," she paused for breath and, seeing their faces, added, "well, what he said was to stay isolated from anyone who had been involved in the war, which is all I told him, I left out the wizarding part," she paused again, "but I've missed you all _terribly_ and I felt just _awful_ running out on you! Will you _ever _forgive me?" she wrung her hands anxiously, looking at the three of them, who exchanged glances and laughed.

"That's our Hermione, always worried about everyone else," said Ron. Harry nodded, "We get it, 'Mione. Really," he said, seeing her face, "you don't have to apologize." Ginny hugged her again. "We're just glad you're back," she smiled.

Relieved, Hermione grinned up at all three of them, and then, regaining her composure, grabbed her trunk. "Well then, we're going to miss the train. We can catch up later." She set off, and then stopped. "Well?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. "Ah…" Hermione put a hand on her hip, giving them stern looks. "Come on, we're going to be late!" she said impatiently.

"It's just that we're not…going back, 'Mione," said Ron softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. He gave a meaningful look to Harry and Ginny, who began simultaneously babbling about putting her things on the train and saying goodbye, and then turned and walked abruptly to the opposite side of the platform.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked quietly, looking up into Ron's eyes. He sighed. "We've received offers from the Ministry to work for them as Aurors. And…well, we've taken them up on it." He shifted awkwardly.

Stunned, she finally straightened and took a deep breath. "I suppose I understand." She looked at him again. "So…that's it then, yes?" He coughed. "Uhm…yeah, I guess it is. Then he looked at her apprehensively. "Ahm, 'Mione...where are we, exactly?"

This was the conversation that Hermione had been dreading. The truth was that over the summer, her feelings for Ron had clarified once the complications of the war had been eliminated. She had realized that, without the threat of danger hanging over their heads, she and Ron just didn't make very much sense at all.

"Ron…" she began, but he interrupted.

"It's just, you'll be at school…and I'll be in London…" Hermione looked at him incredulously as she realized where he was going. "No, yes! That's right…it's okay, Ron. It's what's best." He grinned, but still looked uncomfortable. She huffed. "Really, Ronald, it's alright! It was going to happen eventually. Friends still, though, right?" she asked hopefully.

Ron's face gave away his relief. "Best of," he replied, beaming. He wrapped her in a huge hug. "I missed you so much, Hermione," he said. "Go be brilliant, 'kay?"

She beamed back at him. "Oh, but do be careful, Ron. Don't forget everything Lupin taught you, and remember the bezoar if someone tries to poison Harry, and—" Ron cut her off by hugging her tightly again. He released her and grabbed her bags. "Come on. You and Ginny don't want to be late."

They met Harry and Ginny at the side of the train. "Ready, then?" Ginny asked. Hermione hesitated. "Just a moment, I—" she turned to Harry. "Harry," she said. "Be so, so careful, okay? And if you ever need anything, anything at all, send me your patronus and I'll be there in a moment. Don't forget everything you've learned, okay? And if you ever need research, I can do that too—"

Harry, too, cut Hermione off with a hug. "We'll be fine, Hermione. Just don't forget to write." He turned her around and pushed her gently toward the train. "Go on, we'll be fine!" he called.

She smiled and turned, pulling her trunk onto the train. She turned and looked back at them one last time. "If you don't write me, I'm coming straight down to London, I swear it," she said sternly, with a twinkle in her eye. The boys chuckled. "We'll write loads, we promise," Ron called. "Not too much," called Ginny from the window. Ron pulled a face and the four waved until the train began to collect speed and the girls pulled their heads inside.

Ginny led them to an empty compartment, where they stowed their trunks and sat down. There was an awkward pause as the unfamiliarity that the past year had caused between the two began to set in. Then Ginny's face split into a wide grin. "So...how'd it go with my brother?"

Hermione giggled and threw herself across the compartment to hug Ginny once again. "Oh, Gin, I've missed you!" She sat up. "You have to tell me everything. I don't know _anything_ about _anything_ that happened after I left!" But the redhead was no longer looking at her, instead narrowing her eyes through the foggy compartment glass at the gaggle of first-years who were, albiet not subtly, trying to peer into their compartment.

"Well, you're famous now, there's that." She waved, sending the group of children scattering, and smirked. Hermione looked confused. "Famous?" Ginny pulled a _Daily Prophet_ from her bag and threw it across the compartment. "See for yourself." The paper was opened to an article titled "Hogwarts Heroes: What's Next?" A picture of a smiling Harry and Ron, apparently holding some sort of press conference, looked back at her.

Hermione looked up at Ginny. "But what about you?" The ginger's smirk grew even wider. "Oh, they caught up to me. It took them a while to find out about Neville and Luna and me, but when they did, we got a spread almost as big as that one. I think you'll like it-I exaggerated a lot." Hermione snickered. "Don't worry. I saved every single _Prophet_ over the summer for you. I knew I'd never be able to answer all of your questions."

"Oh, Gin! That's perfect, thank you!" Suddenly, her stomach gave a huge growl. Ginny giggled. "Hungry?"

Hermione frowned, remembering that she had not eaten breakfast that morning. "Yeah, actually. I'm going to go hunt down the food cart. Do you want anything?" Ginny shook her head, and Hermione stood up, once again causing a fuss within the group of younger students that had once again gathered outside the door. She waited a moment for the passage to clear, and then stepped outside.

Her head was bent as she walked down the corridor, thinking about her newly acquired 'fame'. _Well, not _newly_ acquired. _She corrected herself. _I sure seem to have missed a lot..._

Hermione was so distracted by the thoughts in her head that she didn't notice how fast she was walking when a tall, blonde man stepped out of his compartment and began walking in front of her. In fact, she didn't even notice he was there, until—"Oof!" the man stumbled forward as Hermione walked directly into his back, toppling down after him. Horrified, she sprang back up immediately, apologies tumbling from her mouth.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there…wasn't paying attention…"

The man pushed himself up from the floor, dusting himself off as he turned around. "No, it's fine, don't wor…" he trailed off as they both looked each other in the face for the first time.

"Draco?" Hermione's voice faltered, giving away her complete and utter surprise. The "man" was actually her best friend's archenemy, Draco Malfoy. And, she realized with horror, she had just bumped into him. More like ran him down, really. She felt for her wand, fearing whatever outrageous punishment Malfoy was going to attempt to dole out. Apparently, she was not as subtle as she had meant for, because his eyes dropped to her pocket and his mouth twitched in the direction of a smile. But wait—this time, Hermione nearly made to pinch herself—was it possible that the boy had been smiling already?

"Granger," he stated easily, though without even a trace of the malice of prior years, and she was right—he was, in fact, smiling slightly down at her. "I'm really sorry, I should have looked before I left the compartment. My fault entirely. No need for the, eh," he gestured toward her hand, frozen mid-trip toward her wand. "…it's fine." With one last lingering smile, Draco made to continue in the direction he had been traveling, but before she could check herself, his name tumbled from Hermione's lips.

"_Malfoy,_" she said, half to herself, then blushed when she realized, based on the fact that he had once again turned around, that she had said it out loud. "Oh—no, erm, that is…well, I was just, ah…" she trailed off. She had been wondering why, exactly, it was that Malfoy was on the train headed back to Hogwarts, when in fact that was the very last place she expected him to be. The truth was, she would have thought he would be at least under house arrest, if not in Azkaban itself with his father, but that was hardly a question that could be asked in polite company (which, apparently, she and Malfoy were now keeping). The unfinished question hung in the air for a moment before a flash of recognition and a hardening of his facial expression let on that Malfoy had understood her meaning. "Ah, yes. My presence here confuses you, I assume?" he asked, with a trace of bitterness leaking slightly into his voice. Hermione blushed harder; the question seeming doubly rude when said out loud. "No, it's alright. It's a natural question," Malfoy sighed. He seemed to deflate a little as he rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. "Ah…let's see-I was tried by the Wizengamot, if that's what you're concerned about. Fully permitted to be out in the world. I guess whatever I told them after a dose of court-ordered Veritaserum was enough to justify my full release…and subsequent, shall we say, _triumphant return _to Hogwarts." He chuckled, and the bitterness in his voice was now palpable. Hermione merely stood there, still shocked. "Although," he added, "I _was_ still strip-searched before boarding the train." He looked into her eyes, and the hardness she had come to expect had edged into his own. "All clear."

Hermione stood stock still, hanging on his words, still thrown completely off-kilter by his deceptively…well, non-malicious composure, before she realized that he had finished speaking and was looking at her expectantly, his face once again soft, albeit—she thought to herself—a little sad-looking. "Oh," she answered lamely, "that's very good." Yet another half-hearted twitch at the corners of Malfoy's mouth signified how little he believed the conviction behind that one, but he seemed to let it slide. Hermione rocked back on her heels, slowly retreating down the corridor.

"Well…ah. Nice seeing you, Malfoy. See you…in class." With that, she spun, walking briskly back toward her compartment, mind reeling with confusion. Malfoy watched her retreating back with a wry smile tinged with the same mournful bitterness that laced his entire demeanor these days. _You wish_, he thought, _but it will be a lot more personal than that._

* * *

Slamming the compartment door behind her, Hermione hurled herself down into her seat. Ginny looked up from the crossword she was now working on. "I just ran into Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy is here."

Ginny stared at her, nonplussed. "Obviously. I mean, you got the letter before everyone else found out."

Hermione stared back, not understanding. "I'm sorry, what letter?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Your Head Girl letter! Geez, did you eat? Seems like you need the energy-your memory is _shot_."

But as she spoke, shock registered on the other girl's face. "Head Girl? I'm Head Girl?" Ginny narrowed her eyes, and then for the first time allowed concern wash over her. "You did get your letter, didn't you? I mean, owls still fly into Muggle towns. Otherwise Harry would never have come here, right?" Hermione simply shook her head. "I don't know why I never received it. That's so strange!" Ginny sat back once more. "Welp, you're Head Girl. And what you _would_ have known, had you gotten that letter, is that Draco Malfoy…" Ginny could see that Hermione had already connected the dots but the look of sheer panic that suddenly crossed her features. "…is your, ahem, _partner in crime_."


	2. The Year Ahead

_Still own nothing. Thanks for the follows and the two reviews! What a nice thing to wake up to. For the record, I am genuinely open to critique like the ones I've received. I like the idea of a collaborative writing experience. Let me know if you enjoy it._

* * *

Hermione spent the better part of the next hour grilling Ginny on the details of Draco's return and her apparent appointment as Head Girl, intermittently breaking into panic and needing to be calmed down before returning to her interrogation. For the most part, Ginny was able to answer her questions, but she had to admit that she was equally boggled as to why the older girl had been kept in the dark about her own position. Draco was aware of all this because he had been sitting in the adjacent compartment alone, listening for Hermione's reaction to their interaction in the corridor.

_As though anyone could justifiably be _confused_ as to why they might keep that _particular_ bit of information from her_, he sneered to himself. _Hmm, might it be because she's paired with the owner of the manor in which she was made a prisoner of war?_

He ran a hand through his unkempt hair for what was probably the millionth time that day. He had arrived at the station dressed in Muggle clothing, like everyone else, but he had also polyjuiced himself to look like a Muggle as well, intending to avoid exactly the situation in which he had ended up with Granger. Once the potion had worn off on the train, he had only chanced to enter the corridor because he knew everyone would be huddled under the girls' compartment, aching for a glimpse at either one of them. He hadn't expected to run into anyone, much less the heroin herself.

_Our new…celebrity_, he thought to himself, remembering the same words Snape had used on Potter on their first day, and chuckled humorlessly. It seemed a lifetime ago to him, now.

"How could McGonagall _possibly_ think it was a good idea to pair me with _him_? _Forgetting_ the fact that we've _never_ gotten along, and let's not forget that he _broke_ my best friend's _nose_, he _watched_ his aunt _torturing me inside of his home_!"

Granger was panicking again. This was, Draco assumed, exactly the reaction that McGonagall had anticipated and tried to avoid by keeping the Head letter from her. He was not looking forward to the conversation that Granger would inevitably want to have with him. He didn't like to talk about the war at all, with anyone. He hated justifying his actions when many of them, he felt he could barely justify to himself. Among those was his choice not to act as Granger had lain on the stone floor of his house, Bellatrix scarring her skin with horrible marks and crucifying her over and over. Even now, the thought made his blood run cold.

But as for the nose thing, Granger had done the same to him only a few years prior, so that hardly seemed worthy of complaint.

Ginny had, as far as he could hear, responded to most of these outbursts with a blanket combination of sympathy and consolation, but she seemed to be saying something worthwhile, now. "I understand, Hermione, and I'm sure when you speak with McGonagall she will be able to give you an explanation for all of this. But for now, you need to accept the situation and pull yourself together. You stand to gain nothing by falling to pieces in front of Malfoy."

_A little late for that_, the boy smirked, _but I'm not exactly judging her for it_.

He sighed once more and threw a hand again through his hair, stressed. The truth was that it was neither here nor there to him how Granger reacted to his presence except that he desperately needed a break from his past, and she had the power to pile it on in spades. All he wanted—all he _desperately_ wanted—was an uneventful school year, at the end of which he could graduate and move to Muggle London.

He grimaced at the thought of being surrounded by Muggles and their noise and their stupid contraptions, but then remembered that the alternative was here, surrounded by wizards and their questions and prejudices and assumptions. _Who exactly did you murder, Mr. Malfoy? _

_No one, _Draco reminded himself for what seemed like the thousandth time. _I killed no one_. Over the summer, the story of how Snape had double-dealt the Dark Lord and killed Dumbledore according to the headmaster's own wishes had hit the papers. When Draco saw it, he had been awash with relief. The man had been going to die anyway. _And_, in his final moments, he had _believed in Draco_—moreso than his father, or the Dark Lord, or, Merlin knows, the _Golden Trio_ ever did. He believed that Draco had the potential to turn his life around. And he kept Draco from becoming a murderer in order to do it.

That thought, that Dumbledore would maybe be proud of him if he could see him today, was the only thing that could buoy Malfoy's mood these days. It was the only reason he was returning to Hogwarts and the only thing that would get him through the year. _This is for you, old man_, he thought. He knew he could sail through the year with high marks and little effort, which is exactly what he intended to do, but the Granger thing was a definite wrench in his plans. He had intended to go to class and spend the rest of his time in his dormitory, avoiding anyone who could suck him back into his depressing past, but living with the girl-and not just any girl, but Potter's best friend and the heroine of the Second Wizarding War, as well as one of the most curious, prying people he knew-would make it difficult. And that was an understatement.

He heard a sigh. "Come on, then, I guess we'd better get into our robes. I'm not prepared for this at all but I'll at least show up dressed properly," he heard Granger force a laugh through the divider, and was shocked to find that Hogwarts had already come into view through the window. He jumped up, pulling his own robes out of his trunk and over his head. _Same here_, he thought to himself. He had no idea what to expect ahead, but if there was anything that being a Malfoy had taught him, it was that one could always keep up appearances. And he intended to-no matter how difficult it might be.

* * *

"Okay, well, I have to go gather the first years. You'll be alright?" Ginny looked back down at Hermione, concerned. Hermione looked back at her, her brows knit in confusion. "Oh! Right, that's another thing-I'm a prefect." Ginny gestured to the badge pinned to her robes. "George could have throttled me, he was so cross. I just told him it gives me more opportunity to cause trouble!" she said with a smile, but Hermione could see the lines of pain that crossed her face as she inevitably thought of George's deceased twin. "Anyway," she said, regaining her composure, "I have to go get them into the boats. Try and find Luna, you can ride in her carriage, 'kay?"

With that, the ginger disappeared through the compartment door. Hermione had just reached down to tuck her Muggle clothes into her trunk when the door slid open again and a soft voice said, "Hey, Hermione."

As though she had heard her name, Luna stood in the doorway, but she looked entirely different from the last time Hermione had seen her. She had cut her long, white-blonde hair very short, leaving her looking, Hermione thought, a bit like Tinker Bell. She had updated her wardrobe slightly, so that she still looked as 'out there' as ever, but would probably fit in with the girls in one of those American magazines Hermione's cousins had shown her. She still carried the air of 'dottiness' with her that Hermione remembered fondly surrounded her on the train the day they met, but she seemed a bit more present and focused than usual. Hermione chalked it up to yet another effect of the war-no one could afford to be caught off-guard, not even the most innocent, like Luna.

The girl came in and perched on the edge of the seat. "Are you ready to leave the train? I thought you might like to sit with me and Neville in a carriage." Looking up, Hermione saw that Neville now stood in the doorway as well. He waved. "Hey, 'Mione." Hermione smiled, realizing again just how much she had missed her friends, and followed them off of the train.

Hermione gasped as the carriages came into view, for the first time able to see the magnificent black creatures pulling them in their stead. "Pretty, aren't they?" Luna murmured. Hermione wouldn't quite go that far, but they certainly were a thing to behold. The three friends chatted pleasantly as they rode up to the school. They filled her in, telling her that Lavender Brown, the Patil twins, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas were all returning for an eighth year. There were rumors about who would return from other houses, but no one knew for sure.

Finally, the carriage rounded a bend and Hermione let out a gasp as Hogwarts came into full view. Restored to its former glory, it was even more magnificent than she had remembered. The spires soared high over the rolling green hills, leading down to the lake, sparkling in the now-moonlight. The windows were lit from within with the warmest-looking glow, and Hermione suddenly could not wait to be curled up in the Gryffindor common room to write to Harry and Ron by the fire. But there was a pang in her chest as Hermione remembered, once again, that becoming Head Girl would change everything-for the first time, she would not be returning to the Gryffindor common room, but rather, she would live in the Heads' tower. _With Malfoy_, she thought.

Before she knew it, the three of them were being swept along in the stream of students entering through the large oak doors at the front of the castle. As they poured into the Great Hall, Hermione turned around to find Professor McGonagall smiling at her. "Miss Granger," she said warmly.

"Professor McGonagall!" For as much aggravation the woman had caused Hermione in the past few hours, it was still with overwhelming excitement that she saw her favorite professor again for the first time.

"It is very, very good to see you again, Miss Granger. I do hope your summer was as restful and healing as you needed for it to be," she said.

"Yes, it was a nice...retreat," said Hermione. "And yourself?" she asked.

McGonagall gestured to the hall around them. "It was quite a bit of work getting the castle put together again, but I'd say a productive summer overall." She beamed around her, then focused back on Hermione. "Now, I shall assume that Miss Weasley informed you that you have been appointed Head Girl. I do apologize for not sending the letter, but the rest of the staff and I agreed that it was best not to disturb you any earlier than was absolutely necessary. You really would not have benefited from spending your last two weeks at home fretting about something so insignificant," she paused. "Miss Granger, you should understand that this is an appointment, but it is not binding. If you do not feel suited to the task, tell me now and I will pass the position along. But you should know that the professors and I feel strongly that you possess a unique leadership that will not be found anywhere else presently within the student body." She looked expectantly at the girl.

Hermione had been prepared to tell Professor McGonagall exactly that-that she wasn't prepared for the job, couldn't handle the stress, couldn't handle _Malfoy_. But as she looked around at the hall full of students, at the head table with all of the professors, she realized that she really did want to make Hogwarts proud.

"I can handle it, Professor," she said. McGonagall beamed.

"I was so dearly hoping you would say that. Well then, run along to your table for the feast. You can meet me afterward and I will show you to your room. Enjoy!" she called, and she whisked away.

* * *

"Focus up, Malfoy, where's your head?" Blaise Zabini snapped his fingers in front of the blonde boy.

"What? Oh, sorry," he replied. He had been watching Granger's exchange with McGonagall. He was anticipating some sort of outburst, anything that might indicate she was refusing the position and making his life loads easier. But she seemed to turn toward the hall with some sort of stupid, sentimental look in her eyes and when she turned back to McGonagall, he watched her nod her head in agreement. She was accepting the position. He couldn't believe it!

"Idiot girl, don't you back down from _anything_?" he grumbled to himself.

"What?" said Zabini. "Listen, you need to lighten up, man. You look fit to burst."

Malfoy was about to respond when Professor McGonagall rose to the podium and the hall quieted.

"Good evening students, and a warm welcome back to Hogwarts." At this, a cheer broke amongst the students. The sense of triumph over all that had kept the students away from their rightful school spread even as far as the Slytherin table. Draco himself even cracked a smile-it really was good to be back at the old Hogwarts.

"We have, over the past two years, suffered innumerable losses and immeasurable heartbreak. I assure you, our hearts are one as we grieve our fallen. However, the time is right to rise from our own ashes and the collective ashes of the wizarding community and build a better, more hopeful future. Our lost comrades would expect absolutely nothing less," she paused. "I will admit to you that while I am your new Headmistress, I am no Professor Dumbledore, nor will I attempt to be. To do so would be a disservice to you and a dishonor to his memory." She looked down over the tables. "I will strive to match our beloved past Headmaster in dedication to you and to this school alone. It is my great expectation that this will be enough."

She clapped her hands together, breaking the somber spell that had settled over the room. "With that said, I will not dilly-dally and keep you from your food. A reminder that while our greatest threat of danger has been banished, the creatures in the Dark Forest are still to be respected and revered, as they, too, have the potential to cause great harm. All students will do well to stay far away from the edge of the grounds." At this, Draco saw Hermione smile to herself-he knew too well how often she personally had put herself in harms way within the boundaries of the forest. McGonagall continued, "And that, dear students, is all I have to say. Eat up!" She waved her hands over the hall and all manner of food appeared in front of the students. Realizing his hunger, Draco forgot his thoughts and dug in.

Blaise looked up from his drumstick, his mouth full. "You know what? I think this could be alright. I like feeling like I don't have to be _bad_ all the time."

Draco smirked, but inside, he felt that weight lift from him, as well. It was true. Technically, he could behave however he liked. While he doubted he would take advantage of that right, it still seemed freeing to have the option. With that happy thought in his mind, he tucked into his dinner. When the meal was done, he rose, starting to follow Blaise down to the Slytherin dorms. "Uh, I don't think so," Blaise grinned, gesturing toward McGonagall, who was now standing at the front of the room, waiting for him. He glanced over to find Granger looking straight back at him.

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy," McGonagall called, "I will now show you to your rooms."


	3. Move-In

The Heads' tower turned out to be very near Gryffindor tower and on the opposite side of the castle from the Slytherin dungeons, which suited both Hermione and Draco just fine. Hermione intended to spend the majority of her time in her old common room with Ginny anyway, and Draco intended to avoid his old common room like the plague. He was beyond tired of listening to the other Slytherins' opinions on the outcome of the war. _I don't care!_ he wanted to scream. _It wasn't my fight. It never was._

The entrance to the common room was, much like the Room of Requirement, concealed in a bit of seemingly plain stone wall. McGonagall spoke the password (_unity_—Draco nearly gagged) and an ornate door appeared, through which all three entered. "Miss Granger, your bedroom is on the right," McGonagall gestured to the room at the back right of the common room. "Mister Malfoy, the left."

Draco had to admit that the Heads' quarters were well outfitted. A sunken sitting area, decorated with plush couches in front of what he assumed would be a perpetually roaring fire, was offset by the two bedrooms in a raised area toward the back of the room. Tall windowpanes were set into the far wall. Whoever had decorated had managed to blend their house colors nicely—Gryffindor was represented in the deep mahogany of the wood paneling and the dark reddish leather of the furniture, while the silver fixtures recalled the Slytherin half of the theme. The carpet and couch pillows were a pleasant combination of forest green and gold. Not bad, thought Draco.

"You have the rest of the evening to settle in," said McGonagall, "and I'll expect you in my office at ten o'clock this evening to discuss your responsibilities. Until then, try to make yourself at home." She swept back out the door, leaving the two alone.

They stood awkwardly for a moment, until Granger drew herself up, saying, "Well then. I'll just...put away my things." It was a forced bravado, and Draco stared after her as she made her way to her bedroom, for the first time in his life not enjoying the discomfort he was causing the Gryffindor girl.

Perhaps he felt that she had already experienced enough discomfort (a massive understatement) at the hands of his family for, oh, a lifetime; or maybe she just seemed smaller, more vulnerable, without the two idiots at her back. Maybe, he admitted, it was because he knew she was afraid of him.

He sighed and dragged his feet up to his bedroom, not enjoying the thought of what he was about to do. He was peeved at himself for feeling the need to somehow alleviate Granger's discomfort, but at the same time, he knew it was only fair. _Since when have I cared about what's 'fair'?_ he smirked to himself. But in his heart of hearts, he knew this was what he truly wanted. Hard as it might be to break eighteen some-odd years of habit, he wanted to try to be, well, if not a good guy, a decent one.

He pulled out his wand and waved it lazily at the contents of his trunk and bags, which were piled neatly at the foot of his bed. The objects quickly flew from where they were stowed and arranged themselves appropriately around the room. He stood back: thick green curtains now hung from the window, and a delicate silver rug covered the hardwood floor. His bed was made up entirely in black, with green curtains draped around the four-poster. On the desk were arranged his writing utensils, as well as a solitary picture of his mother, Narcissa. A bookshelf adjacent to the desk filled itself with his favorite volumes, along with the textbooks for the year. He flicked his wand once more and his clothes flew neatly to the wardrobe. Satisfied, he grabbed a book and left the room.

He perched himself on a couch by the fire with Granger's door in view. He opened his book, prepared to wait a while, but was surprised when he heard the door open moments later. He looked up and met Granger's eyes, which were wide with surprise. She faltered and made to disappear back into her bedroom, but he stopped her. "Granger," he called.

She turned and looked at him cautiously. He closed his book and sat forward. "May I have a word?" he asked, careful to keep his tone as amicable as possible. She seemed to deliberate, then approached him and sat on the edge of the couch opposite.

He decided to do her the favor of being blunt. "You're afraid of me," he said plainly. Her mouth twitched, amused by his honesty. She tucked her legs under her. "What makes you say that?" she asked carefully.

He snorted. "Granger, do me a favor and don't pretend. My aunt tortured you," he said, "my father was a Death Eater, and technically, so was I," he watched her eyebrows rise at his wording of this statement. "And, admittedly, I was never kind to you to begin with," he finished. She flushed at his acknowledgement of all of her inner thoughts. "Are you denying it?" he asked gently.

Again, she was careful in her answer. "Not outright," she said, "But I'm not afraid of you. It takes quite a bit more to really scare me these days...given my experience," she said. He found his own lips twitching into a smile at her cheek. He supposed she was right. "I wouldn't say that I trust you by any means, though," she said.

He smiled again. "Fair." There was a pause as his inner Draco screamed at him to stop, stop before he gave all of his power away. _Shut up_, he told it. _She deserves this much._ He took a breath. "Listen, Granger. I want you to know that I'm not going to hurt you. Nor would I have at any point," he added in a rush, "and…I wish I could have done something. To help you, I mean," he said. He looked up to see Granger looking at him thoughtfully. "It was just…complicated," he finished lamely.

There was what seemed like a long silence, and then Granger spoke. "Okay," she said finally. "Thanks." And then she got up and walked away.

Draco was confused. "Seriously? That's it?" he asked after her.

She turned at the door to the tower. "I think so, yes." She could see his frustration, and hers was equally matched. This dynamic was not easy to navigate. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I just don't know how to deal with you yet. You're right, you've never been kind to me. So even if I can forget everything that happened during the war, I'm left with a boy with a vicious hatred for all that I inherently am. Knowing that you won't act on that helps, but it's still...complicated," she finished.

She saw Draco's look of surprise at her honest words. "Just doing you the favor of not pretending," she said softly, and there was sadness in her eyes. With one last look at Malfoy, she pushed the door open and left.

* * *

The minute Hermione had left the common room, she had run directly to Gryffindor tower and begged the Fat Lady to let her in. Luckily, Neville was on his way out, so she had continued straight up to Ginny's room and spilled everything Draco had said.

"And what did you say?!" the other girl had asked.

"I sort of yelled at him, honestly! I didn't know what else to do," Hermione had replied. "As though 'I'm not going to hurt you' is going to make me feel any better about anything. As though not causing me bodily harm is some great favor! Jesus!" She was pacing back and forth at a dizzying speed, and Ginny grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the bed.

"It does help, though, 'Mione," she said. "Like it or not, that was a concern. And while I still wouldn't trust him, this is progress."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know how to deal with him. It's like double layers of uncertainty—there's the regular Malfoy that I didn't like in school to begin with, and then the Malfoy that was a Death Eater, too. 'Technically', though, he said," she had corrected herself.

"Yeah, I don't know what that means. Just be careful, Hermione," Ginny had said in return.

When ten o'clock came, she went down to McGonagall's office to receive her duties. With a tense stomach she met Draco outside and a decided to chance a smile, which he returned. _This is exhausting_, she thought. They went in together, and listened as McGonagall outlined their duties. They turned out to be fairly simple: each night, they would be charged with visiting each of the common rooms and speaking with the prefect on duty for that evening. Additionally, they were generally expected to develop a good rapport with the rest of the student body and make themselves available should the prefects need help or advice dealing with their residents. That was it.

The two made their way back to their common room in silence. Draco had decided that there was nothing else he could say to make her feel any more comfortable - he would just have to show her that he could be civil. When they arrived, they stood in the center of the room awkwardly until Hermione finally said, "Well, goodnight, Malfoy." She turned toward her bedroom.

"Sleep well, Granger," he replied, and disappeared into his own bedroom. Hermione shut her door and threw herself down onto her bed. D_raco Malfoy, what am I going to do about you?_

They couldn't continue the way today had - analyzing her every behavior through what she expected Malfoy's perception to be was utterly exhausting. Then again, she didn't want to go ahead and begin faking some ridiculous friendship that neither felt. Finally, she settled on treating him as a coworker. There had been a boy at the cafe she had worked at that summer who she didn't particularly care for, but she ha managed to get along with him just fine by treating him in a smart, professional way.

She rolled over, satisfied with her conclusion. They would have a business relationship, and that was all.


End file.
